


I Didn't Know if it was Day or Night

by Harishe



Series: Holiday Discord Events [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, M/M, SSBBsKinktober2020, Swooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe
Summary: Clint is desperate. So desperate he tries something really out there and stupid. The results are confusing and... sexy?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Holiday Discord Events [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061204
Comments: 20
Kudos: 59
Collections: Thwip & Hari's Kinktober '20





	I Didn't Know if it was Day or Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a discord Kinktober event. The prompt is 'Dirty Dreams', which I mixed with another prompt. I won't say here cause I don't wanna spoil it.
> 
> Thank you so much [andthwip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthwip) for beta reading for me, and thank you to all of my discord friends for cheering me on. Y'all are amazing.

The dim candlelight cast an irregular and eerie glow in the center of the room, leaving the edges in near perfect darkness. Clint’s knees were getting sore from kneeling for so long. The tiny fire he’d lit hours earlier, had long burned its course. Now he was just left in the middle of his shitty apartment, alone, in what felt like twilight.

“That lady had no fucking clue what she was talking about. Wormwood my ass,” he muttered. 

Despite his irritation, he still didn’t attempt to rise. It was too important to risk not doing everything he could. It was almost to that point too, hence Clint sitting in a crudely drawn ‘summoning’ circle in the middle of his apartment, with every candle he could lay hands on surrounding him in one giant fire hazard.

After another few minutes, he slowly unfolded himself, feeling every stretch and pull as he did. Quickly, he blew out the candles and placed them all on the kitchen counter, as well as the little summoning bowl, he’d deal with them later.

Not even bothering to turn the lights on, he made his way to his bedroom. The door was barely ajar when a large, tan blur erupted from it, knocking him over.

“Yeah, okay Lucky. I-” he pushed the dog’s snout away to avoid the large tongue getting further into his mouth, “ I know. You’re glad to be out. I shouldn’t’ve locked you in there for so long.”

Lucky stopped licking long enough to peer down at him and tilt his head to the side curiously.

“Yeah, okay. You were right. It didn’t work,” he said as he gently pushed the dog off of him to sit up. Clint sighed deeply and scratched behind Lucky’s ear, watching the tongue loll out happily. “We both knew it really wasn’t gonna work anyhow. A faerie? Really?”

Chuckling darkly, Clint rose to his feet once again. Looking down at Lucky, he shucked his shirt and tossed it carelessly on the floor beside him. Yawning deeply, he wiggled out of his pants and boxers only to leave them where they fell.

As he climbed into bed, Clint had a short wrestling match with Lucky for the prime bed real estate, barely managing to compromise. Once settled, he ended up with only half a pillow and one leg hanging off the edge of the bed. Not the best way to fall asleep, but he managed.

A number of days passed and Clint barely thought about the ritual again. Why would he? It had failed, and all he’d gotten from it was a temporary ache in his knees and ankles. So he went about his business, trying to figure out new ways to get what he wanted.

He was deep in thought about it, when he ran into a large figure coming out of his favorite coffee shop. They’d managed to collide in such a way that caused his coffee to slosh over the side of the cup and onto his shirt.

“Awww, coffee, no…” he muttered, trying to keep the droplets from further staining his clothes. It was too late though, a cooling line now ran from his collarbone to his naval, making his skin prickle with goose bumps. 

He transferred the cup to his free hand and shook the remaining coffee free as he looked up to apologize to the poor schmuck that he’d nearly bowled over. Clint’shand froze mid shake as he looked up, the most stunning man he’d ever seen was staring at his own shirt, his brow furrowed. Shit. This guy… This guy had everything. 

He wasn’t as tall as Clint, but he wouldn’t hold it against the guy, there weren’t many that could match him. The man’s shoulders were broader than his own, his biceps looked like they weren't having any of the nonsense that was the shirt charged with the task of containing them. It didn’t seem like there was any space between skin and fabric, which was _really_ difficult to look away from. As they shifted and moved in a futile attempt to swipe away the splatter of coffee that had hit his— oh my… truly impressive pecs. _Tiddies._ The thought circled his mind for years, or possibly just a few seconds. Clint couldn’t really tell with the way his brain was short circuiting.

Finally, the man looked away from his chest and met Clint’s eyes. Oh, that look. That look might actually be able to murder someone. That was one of those glares that you should be able to patent and become a millionaire from.

Whatever spell had trapped Clint was broken as soon as the man opened his mouth to speak though. “Yeah, thanks man.”

“You— Me— Uh, sorry about that,” Clint stuttered out. _How the hell are his eyes so damn blue?_

The man merely rolled his eyes in response and huffed out a breath of irritation. “At least you can hide your stain on that…” he trailed off and gestured at Clint.

Looking down, Clint took a quick inventory. Stained and only mildly ripped shirt. Poorly fitting sweats that hung low on his hips. Ratty and well loved purple converse. 

“Did you just gesture to all of me?” he asked meeting the man’s eyes again.

Giving a one shoulder shrug, the man shook his head, but didn’t respond. His lip curled in a small smirk. Clint felt a flutter in the pit of his stomach. Oh, he was in trouble for sure.

“And here I was about to offer to pay the dry cleaning bill,” Clint shifted his weight, “ _That_ particular offer is off the table.” 

He might be a little smitten with the Adonis before him, but that didn't mean Clint was going to take any shit. 

A scoff. “If I thought you could afford the bill, I’d find a way to get it to you.”

Well damn. Why is it that all the best looking ones are assholes? “Look buddy—”

The man cut him off with a dismissive hand wave. “Look, I’ve really got to be going. Apparently I have to go home and change my shirt before heading into work now.”

Before Clint could respond, the man pushed past him, hard enough to jostle the coffee cup again. Clint hissed as a fresh line of heat now worked it’s way over his hand and down his wrist.

“You know, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar!” he called after him.

“I catch more than flies, Gorgeous.” The reply floated back.

Staring after him, Clint snorted and shook his head. _Gorgeous_. Today was going to be great.

The day was, in fact, not great. Actually, it was just as awful as the start. When Clint finally made his way home, hours after he’d planned, he kicked his door closed and just stood. He closed his eyes and thumped his head against the door. Taking a moment to just barely exist between breaths, Clint finally reopened his eyes to glance around the apartment. Lucky barely lifted his head to chuff at being disturbed from his evening nap.

“Good to see you too, buddy.”

Tossing his bag onto the counter, Clint made a beeline for the shower. He was definitely heading to bed early tonight. Exhaustion wasn’t even close to how bone weary he felt. Three training sessions with the most greenhorn junior agents he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he was Done. Capital ‘D’ and all.

Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow Clint was asleep. Lucky must have sensed something wasn’t right, because he only put up a token fight for most of the bed. 

Clint opened his eyes to find startling blue ones hovering over him. He blinked owlishly in the dim light. The room was only lit from a thin stream of moonlight filtering through the sliver of exposed window. It was still late, or maybe early, and for the life of him, Clint could not figure out why these eyes were peering into his soul.

He kept his muscles loose and relaxed, he didn’t want… whoever this was… to react poorly. They hadn’t hurt him yet, but he had to be ready. Which, now that he was actually waking up, how the hell had they gotten into— a quick glance around— yup, he was still in his apartment. How the hell had they gotten in, let alone this close without Clint waking up? Or Lucky?

A rueful grin joined the floating eyes above him. It wasn’t dangerous persay, but it still didn’t sit right. 

“Can…” Clint stopped to clear his throat, “Can I help you?”

“You tell me,” the stranger said softly, “You’re the one that asked for me.”

Taking a page from Lucky’s book, Clint tilted his head to the side curiously. He’d been the one to ask for them? What the hell did that mean? 

Glancing down, he could make out more of the man hovering over him, and there were those biceps again. Clint couldn’t help the subtle shift in his hips as he eyed them,those are the kind of biceps ~~he~~ someone would be happy to be suffocated by.

It was then that it finally clicked. Spilled coffee. Stains. Surly comments. This was Mr. Charming himself. _In his bedroom._

“Look, if you wanted me to pay the dry cleaning bill that bad, you could’ve just _called me_ ,” Clint said wryly, “No need to show up in my home. In my bed. With me in it.”

Mr. Charming snorted. It was exactly the way he had at the coffee shop after The Incident. At least he wasn’t still wearing the stained and straining shirt from that morning. Although, this one was just as tight fitted. _Was there even room for air in there?_

“You’re the one that asked for me,” he repeated. Same inflection and everything.

“Nooo….” Clint drew the word out as he shifted his hips. He couldn’t help his body’s response to being in such close proximity to someone as good looking as this guy. “I’m pretty confident that I would remember asking someone as grumpy as you out on a date.”

Why didn’t Clint feel the typical panic of being snuck up on? His heart should be racing, dumping adrenaline into his veins to make him hyper alert. Instead, he felt completely at ease with the situation, like it was completely normal for a man he’d only just encountered to wake him up with such an intense planking session in his bed.

Smirking, Mr. Charming leaned closer to his face. Clint felt a puff of hot and humid air on his face as the other man spoke. 

“What is it you require?” He whispered so softly that Clint had to strain his ears to hear it. A chill swept down Clint’s spine, not from fear, but anticipation.

“Require?” Clint sputtered, “I think this is where I say that you’re required to leave.”

Mr. Charming watched him intently for a moment, his eyes glittering in the moonlight filtering in from the window. Apparently he’d come to a decision because he pulled back, taking his warm breath with him, leaving Clint’s face feeling oddly cold, and nodded. “Very well.” 

Without another word, Mr. Charming fluidly rose and walked, wait, floated to the bedroom door, leaving Clint hastily sitting up and reaching after him. It was that exact moment that a gang of ninja monkeys crashed through his window. Clint reflexively rolled off the bed away from them and…

Crashed spectacularly onto the floor, the sheets tangled around his legs forcing his feet to stay on the bed. Lucky peered over the edge, raising one brow and then the other. Groaning, Clint threw his arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out early morning rays bleeding into the room.

Lucky, evidently appeased with Clint’s safety, chuffed and lay back down. 

“That’s good looking out, Lucky. I appreciate it,” he groaned and thumped his head against the floor a few times.

_What the hell kind of dream was that? Ninja monkeys?_

Clint quickly freed himself from his sheets and did his best to shake off the oddness of the dream as he got ready for his day. Can’t keep those newbies waiting. No telling what sort of chaos they’ll get into.

Days passed without incident for him. No angry strangers. No wasted coffee. Hell, even the new recruits were starting to irritate him less and less. It made Clint antsy, like something was crawling under his skin. He couldn’t keep still. After sitting in his apartment for a few hours, he decided to burn off whatever nervous energy he had by taking Lucky for a run.

Lucky was an excellent running partner. He didn’t try to talk your ear off, and never strayed too far. Clint loosely held onto the leash, more for show than anything else. They’d quickly fallen into a decent rhythm. Sweat was just beginning to trickle from Clint’s temples. It was calming to feel his heartbeat quicken without the accompanying spike of adrenaline that usually went with his normal physical activity.

Grinning down at Lucky, Clint wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. It wasn’t nearly enough, so he quickly pulled the collar of his shirt up and did his best to mop up the mess that was forming.

Of course, being momentarily blinded, Lucky chose that time to yank the leash from Clint’s hand. Cursing, he dropped his shirt from his hand and lunged after it. In doing so, he brushed against someone on the sidewalk. While Clint managed to dance away and stay on his feet, the other person didn’t fare as well, stumbling a few steps before crashing into a public garbage can and landing on his ass.

“Oh, hey man,” Clint approached the guy with his hand extended, “Are you al—”

_Well shit._

There were those murderous blue eyes glaring at him again. “Of _course_ it’s you,” he sneered as he completely ignored Clint’s hand and stood up unassisted. And _holy shit_ , look at those thighs in action. Clint might actually be to die happy if they were between those thighs. “You ruin more clothes of mine than anyone else I think I’ve _ever_ encountered.” To further make his point, Mr. Charming gestured at the fresh hole in the knee of his oh so tight jeans.

“I think they call that look ‘distressed’. At least, that’s what I’m told my style is. ‘Distressed chic.” Clint said with a smirk. If this guy wanted to be a jerk, he could at least give him a real reason to act that way.

Mr. Charming scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what they say.” He turned on his heel and without a backward glance, continued on his way, leaving Clint to stare after him. Which gave him a really nice view of the guy’s ass as he strutted off.

Shaking his head, Clint retrieved Lucky’s leash and tugged gently on it. “This is your fault.”

By the time Clint made home and showered, it was completely dark outside. He didn’t know if it was the encounter with Mr. Charming, or the run, but now he was exhausted. Despite that, he tossed and turned for a while before he was able to finally sleep. He couldn’t help but picture the guy’s thighs and ass whenever he closed his eyes.

Getting up in the morning was a pain. Lucky had spread himself out so far across the bed that Clint didn’t have any room to get comfortable. He was just stepping out of the shower, still toweling off his hair as he exited the bathroom when Clint nearly ran into a very _firm_ body.

“Ah, sorry abou—” he started reflexively before realizing he was _in his own damn apartment._ “Wait. What the hell dude?” Dude turned out to be Mr. Charming himself. _What the fuck is he doing in my home?_

A small chuckle. A glance down. Clint didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, not even a towel. He was at home damnit. Doing his best not to hide himself, Clint glowered at the intruder. 

“Do you want to tell me what you want now?” The guy didn’t seem perturbed by Clint’s nudity in the least. In fact, there seemed to be a hint of mischief in his expression.

Clint pushed past him to get at his clothes. “Yeah, I’d like for you to leave.” He shook out a balled up shirt from his dresser, “I don’t even know how you got in.”

“Look, Clint, that really doesn’t matter,” he paused to lean against the doorframe with a smirk, “What matters is that you want something.”

Clint yanked his jeans up harsher than he intended, causing them to pinch and pull a bit. Shifting himself he stared at Mr. Charming for a moment before replying. “There’s plenty of things I want. I’d like to be younger. I’d like to be able to hear normally again,” he gestured to his hearing aids, “Maybe all I really want is one perfect shot though.”

Mr. Charming nodded and unfolded his arms. “Yes, these are things you want. Sure,” he pushed himself off the doorframe with his shoulder, “But this is not the one thing you truly wish for.”

Clint paused. He had truly wanted something, bad enough to try something crazy. “Okay, fine. What I really want is my best friend back,” he said somberly, his shirt a sudden weight in his hands.

There was a pause, and Mr. Charming nodded. “She’s gone,” he stated, matter of factly. 

Clint couldn’t maintain eye contact with him as he nodded, instead opting to figure out how many threads were fraying on this particular shirt.

He got as high as forty-two before his uninvited guest spoke again. “I can bring her back,” he said simply.

Count forgotten, Clint’s head snapped up. “There’s no bringing her back. She’s gone. And there’s no coming back from that!”

“I can bring her back,” Mr. Charming said again.

“And how in the hell are you gonna do that?” Clint yelled. “Unicorns and magic aren’t real, and not all wishes come true!” He could feel the sting of unshed tears as his chest tightened. Clint actively tried not to think about his friend. It hurt too much.

The guy moved further into the room, drawing Clint’s eye. “Well, you’re half right,” he was only a few steps away when he stopped again, “Unicorns aren’t real.”

As angry and upset as Clint was, he couldn’t help the snort he gave in response. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“I can give you what you want,” he said evenly.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Clint toyed with the fraying hem of his shirt again. “Uh-huh. And how would you do that?” he asked, eyeing the guy suspiciously.

“Make a deal with me, and wish for it.” 

Snorting again, Clint didn’t even try to stop it as it mutated into full on fit of laughter. Mr. Charming seemed genuinely shocked at Clint’s mirth, taking half a step back, as though the raucous laughter could somehow infect him.

“Okay buddy,” Clint said as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “So if you can somehow give me what I truly want, what would I have to give you?” The proposal had been enough to make him laugh, the terms of the deal had to be equally ridiculous. 

Mr. Charming crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight. “It would require the fruit of your love.”

“Oh? The fruit of my love?” Clint sputtered out. “What? My first born? Is that it?” Now he was devolving into fits of giggles. _Fruit of my love. Pfft!_

The guy narrowed his eyes at him. This seemed to be the limit for Mr. Charming, which Clint had to give him credit for. Most people couldn’t last this long in his company without getting mad and storming off. Instead, Mr. Charming unfolded his arms and stalked towards Clint with a level of grace that hadn’t been there minutes prior. The closer he drew, the darker the edges of Clint’s vision dimmed, as though forcing his entire focus on the man in front of him.

“You, mortal, called me here. You requested to make a deal and you treat me this way when I deign to respond to your summons?” His voice seemed to double and tremble with anger as his volume rose to near shouting, the noise echoing in Clint’s head the closer he got.

Instinctively, Clint raised his hands in front of himself, as if to ward off potential danger. “Woah. I don’t even remember—”

“I think it’s probably best that you not complete that thought,” his voice was cold, hollow. The man was now close enough to Clint, that he could feel his body heat, making Clint swallow harshly. “I am not some earthly being to be trifled with at your leisure.” 

Somehow, without moving, he was looming over Clint, as though he were physically growing before Clint’s eyes. 

The encroaching darkness pulsed in time with Clint’s heartbeat, threatening each time to completely take away his sight. The threat was enough to make his breath quicken. He was accustomed to life and death situations, and somehow, this one felt more intense and dire than any he’d faced before. Clint had _literally_ fought for his life, and never felt like this. This. This was different. It was almost as if a spell had…

Now everything clicked into place. He’d done this. 

“I…” Clint licked his lips. “Oh god. I did call you here. You- you’re a…” he trailed off, unable to admit that this beautiful man before him was something other than human. “How?” 

The man cocked his head to the side, considering him. Nothing was said for what felt like eons. Somehow, time itself had ended in those few moments that Clint awaited a response. Finally, he must have come to some decision, because in the blink of an eye, Clint’s vision was just as it had been before and the man was leaning his hip casually against the dresser. As though one of the most terror inducing moments of Clint’s life had not just occurred.

“You called. I answered,” he announced, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Now that you’re aware of your place, do you accept the terms?” His eyes narrowed and hardened with the last few words he spoke.

Swallowing again, Clint lowered his hands. “I— I think I need to at least know your name before I agree to something like that,” he said, ignoring the mild tremor in his voice. 

The corner of the man’s mouth tugged up into a smirk. “Hhmmm, you humans always seem to require more than you’re offered.” He pushed himself off the dresser and took a step towards Clint, causing him to step back reflexively. Realizing that his hands were still raised, Clint quickly dropped them at his sides. He wasn’t some Joe Schmoe on the street. This was his _life._ He knew how to play it cool. _Damnit, Clint._

The smirk spread further, making the corner of his eye crinkle slightly. “Names hold power, so I won’t just _give_ you that, but I will give you something to call me,” he said teasingly, “Bucky will suffice.”

Wrinkling his nose, Clint folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, _Bucky._ How does it work? The trade.”

“Once we agree on terms, you exchange what was promised. Simple as that,” Bucky said with a shrug.

“Simple as that,” Clint echoed, eyeing him warily. He couldn’t help it,he’d lived his whole life being taught over, and over again not to trust anyone. How the fuck was he supposed to trust a fucking _faerie_? “What’s the time frame? What’re the repercussions if I’m unable to hold up my end of the deal?” He ran his hand through his hair harshly, pulling at the roots.

Bucky shook his head. “If all these things must be spelled out for you, then let’s get to it. We don’t have all night.”

Sighing heavily, Clint dropped himself onto the edge of the bed. “Okay, but if you try anything sneaky, I can’t be held liable for what might happen to you.”

It felt as though hours were spent discussing every minute detail of their potential deal. Bucky had ended up on the bed next to Clint, distractingly close, which was probably part of the reason he did it.

Finally, they stood to shake hands. “I give you the _fruit of my love_ and you give me my best friend back. That’s the deal. I give you my end as soon as possible, and when I do, you hold up your end within 24 hours,” Clint said as he stared into Bucky’s eyes. He couldn’t help but announce the deal again for clarity’s sake. They’d worn out the subject so long ago, he was starting to get well and truly irritated.

Smiling in return, Bucky held his hand just a bit tighter. “That’s the deal,” he said with a nod. Releasing Clint’s hand, he turned to leave.

“Hey, wait!” Clint called out, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. “You can’t go yet.” Bucky paused and turned slightly to look at him, his brows knit together in confusion. “The deal said that I had to give you my end as soon as I could.” The confusion deepened on Bucky’s face. “Well, now is as soon as I can,” Clint said smugly.

“Yes, the fruit of your love. I believe that takes a female to produce,” Bucky said slowly, as though Clint were particularly dumb.

Now it was Clint’s turn to smirk. “Yeah. Not always, buddy.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Bucky’s expression changed into one of realization, his mouth forming a round little ‘o’. “You...” Bucky paused long enough to fully face Clint, his ire apparent in his posture. “Little bastard,” he hissed out.

Eyeing him up and down, Clint snorted. “I’m not the little one here.” 

The flat look he got in return was enough to make him giggle.

Bucky shook his head slightly, relaxing his posture, he let a cruel smile spread across his face. “Alright, make a good show of it then.”

Clint could only blink stupidly for a moment, until his brain caught up to what was being implied. “Yeah, that ain’t really the fruit of any kind of love. Sorry.” His tone implied the opposite though.

Growling in frustration, Bucky stalked over to him. This time, his vision didn’t falter, Bucky didn’t seem any more intimidating than your average person, and Clint didn't have the urge to piss himself. This time, it felt predatory, in a way that made Clint’s mouth water.

Before Clint could blink, Bucky was on him, pressing their chests together and forcing Clint to take a step back. As his calves hit the edge of the bed, he reflexively threw his hands behind him in an attempt to catch himself. Bucky chased him down and claimed his mouth with his own. laimed was the only applicable word to use. 

They collided in an explosive meeting of teeth, and tongue, and lips. Sliding and nipping at each other in an attempt to gain the advantage. No other tools were used; were needed in this battle of dominance. 

Just as Clint’s lungs began to really burn with the need to inhale, Bucky pulled away to look down at him. His already gorgeous lips are slightly swollen and a deeper red than before. He only allowed Clint a few short pants before diving in again, this time encouraging Clint to lay back with a hand on his chest. The heat from Bucky’s hand reminded him that he’d never managed to actually get his shirt on in the beginning of… whatever this was.

Clint went as directed, if only due to the promise of more of those addictive kisses that halted his breathing. Even the mild burn from his stubble was electrictrifying against Clint’s skin. Pushing his hands under Bucky’s shirt, Clint felt the hard muscle he’d imagined hidden under those, admittedly, hot clothes. 

Bucky left his hand in the center of Clint’s chest, but dug his fingertips into his flesh as Clint continued his exploration. Everything was rough,hot and perfect. Bucky brought his thigh between Clint’s open legs. Clint hadn’t even realized he’d begun to spread them, he was more than happy with it since Bucky was pressing his thigh so deliciously against his crotch.

Clint pulled his mouth away from Bucky’s just far enough to gasp as Bucky rocked into him, the feral grin he received in response made something flare up deep in the pit of his stomach. There was something about that smirk that made Clint want to kiss it off his handsome fucking face. 

It seemed Bucky had other ideas though, he pushed his thigh against Clint more firmly and grabbed a hold of the back of Clint’s head, twining his fingers into the short strands as though to let him know that he’d been thoroughly caught. As if Clint could ever mistake that fact.

Clint licked his lips but kept moving his hands over all the taught muscle down to Bucky’s pants, before sliding them back up along his chest. Clint's thumbs brushed over Bucky’s nipples, making him hiss softly and tightening his grip in Clint's hair, abruptly pulled his hand away. The pain was just on this side of pleasurable, Clint’s hiss turning into a moan as he couldn’t stop himself from bucking his hips against Bucky. 

A quiet chuckle rumbled above Clint, drawing his eyes back to Bucky’s. This time, Bucky’s smile was all teeth as if he was promising every debauched thing Clint had ever thought in a single moment. More chuckles rumbled and Clint felt Bucky shift his weight slightly. With his head still being held so tightly, Clint couldn’t shift anything but his eyes to look down between them. The only thing he could make out was deft fingers at his waistline. Then he heard the telltale snap of his button being opened and he groaned.

Panting lightly, Clint moved his hands back to Bucky’s pants. When he got near his destination though, the hand in his hair shook him gently. Not hard enough to hurt, more of a warning really. Clint dropped his hands at his side.

Bucky leaned in close to Clint’s ear to whisper, “I’m going to make you regret trying to outwit me in this deal.” 

As if to punctuate himself, Bucky’s hand dove into Clint’s pants, drawing a sharp gasp from him as a warm hand covered him entirely, not yet grasping him though. He’d already been hard from the beginning of their makeout session, but now he was so hard it ached.

“You— uh— should’ve been…. more… clear,” Clint could barely get the words out between whispered grunts and quiet moans. “Honestly, I’ve been looking forward to this since I spilled—” Clint let out a choked off noise as Bucky did _something_ with his fingers that made him arch his back and grab at the sheets. Bucky shushed him soothingly, but never stopped moving his hand and never released his hold in Clint’s hair.

Finally Bucky showed mercy and wrapped his fingers around Clint, making him groan and settle his back against the bed again. Panting, Clint met Bucky’s eyes. They seemed to glitter with a dangerous promise that only spurred Clint on even further.

When Bucky tightened his hold on him, Clint couldn’t stop his hands from reflexively shooting to Bucky’s shoulders and holding on for dear life. He dug his fingertips harshly into the muscle there. Had he been able to think more coherently, he would’ve wondered about the chance of bruising something mythical. 

As it was, all thought flew from his brain as Bucky did three things simultaneously; he pulled Clint’s head back further, forcing him to look at the ceiling so long as he could keep his eyes open, he stroked Clint from base to glans with a sharp twist of the wrist, and he leaned his head forward and locked those pouty lips over Clint’s pointed nipple.

The way Bucky’s sinfully hot tongue twisted and writhed over his nipple had Clint gasping for breath. That combined with the steady rhythm he was building with his other hand had Clint using that precious air to moan so loud that he’d be embarrassed when he thought about it later.

Releasing Clint’s now spit slicked nipple, Bucky looked down at Clint. “Oh Sweetheart, are you already getting close?” Bucky asked sweetly, even if the question was meant to mock Clint.

“You—” a gasp, “Mother—” a moan, “FUCKER!” Clint finally spat out. Bucky seemed to be intent on making Clint forget every word he’d ever learned in his life. Those fingers had released his hair, only to lay down as a threat over his exposed throat and then squeezed just enough to restrict his already labored breathing.

There was no hint of danger in the gesture though, feeling more like a message to stay still. _To behave._ Something that Clint was inherently bad at. As if to prove the point, he raised his own knee that had ended up between Bucky’s legs to press against his hardening cock.

Bucky growled and narrowed his eyes at him. “I can play this game too, Handsome,” Clint said with a smirk, only to gasp as the hand around his throat tightened enough to momentarily cut off his air supply.

His breath returned before he could even lay a hand on Bucky’s wrist though. The same hand was now sliding down the outside of Clint’s shoulder, leaving a searing trail of heat in its wake. 

Tired of being so uncharacteristically passive, Clint grabbed Bucky by the waist and pulled his weight down to rest on him. The new position gave Clint easy access to those wonderfully pouty and still kiss slicked lips hovering over him. Licking into them earned him a muted groan, spurring him further into action. 

It seemed as if they were both suspended in time for a moment. Their hands kept their teasing touches where they were and their tongues wrestled for dominance. It wasn’t until Clint’s lungs began a burning call for air that they pulled away from each other, with only one of them gasping for breath.

“Tired of kissing me already, Sweetheart?” Bucky asked, mocking. His lips were still hovering close enough to brush against Clint's as he spoke. “You humans and your pesky need to breathe.”

Narrowing his eyes, Clint moved to flip them so he was on top, but couldn’t move the mass of heat and muscle above him. The action only earned him a chuckle. “Okay, that’s just unfair though,” Clint whined. He was by no means weak. Hell, he regularly sparred with Captain Fucking America, but trying to move Bucky was like trying to wish the stars away. Impossible. 

Bucky tutted. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He shifted his hand so a finger pressed beneath Clint’s balls, rewarding him with a gasp a shift of the hips. “And I’ll take my time with it.”

The words were just on the right side of threatening, which had Clint’s eyes rolling back as Bucky pressed at the same spot again. He’d never felt fingers as talented as this. Even his own hands paled in comparison, and Clint was very skilled with his hands. A skill that he was intent on showcasing. As soon as his brain reformed from the mush state it was currently in.

Another sharp inhale, another buck of the hips, and Clint was leaking pre cum like a fucking fountain. They hadn’t even removed their clothes yet and he was ready to cum like a rutting teenager. The thought gave him enough wherewithal to try and fight back though, eagerly worming his hand into Bucky’s pants in an attempt to show off his own skillful hands.

He’d barely gotten his hand under Bucky’s waistband when a finger pressed against his opening. Not forceful, just gently teasing. Teasing enough that it made his hand spasm, losing hard earned ground. Bucky pulled back far enough to smile serenely down at him. This time, Clint’s glare held little heat as he was focused on finally getting his hand properly around his partner.

The teasing finger never left after that, only occasionally added pressure, threatening to press in completely, but never quite doing so.

Confidently grasping Bucky’s length, Clint focused all his attention on showing off as best he could. It wasn’t until he gently pulled Bucky’s balls that he finally garnered a substantial reaction. All at once, Bucky gasped and dropped his head to Clint’s collar bone as he curled his back. Without his body heat pressed against him, Clint’s flesh broke out into goosebumps. The finger that had been teasing him tensed, and pressed in. Moaning brokenly, Clint arched up to meet Bucky once again.

When he regained enough brainpower to form a semi coherent thought, Clint chuckled breathily, angling his head to better see Bucky’s face. “Seems like that was a sweet spot for you?”

Bucky nodded against him, not looking Clint in the eye. “Seems you’ve upped your ante though.” 

That was all the warning Clint got before Bucky removed his hands and raised himself up. He paused to stare down at the glistening flesh below him, trailing his fingers over the taught muscle and knotted scars that littered Clint’s torso.

Clint tried his best to hide the shudder in response, but Bucky’s chuckle let him know he’d failed. 

“You are just all kinds of delicious,” he said, raising his fingers to his mouth and wrapping his lips teasingly around his fingers.

“Jesus fuck,” Clint breathed out.

Smirking, Bucky pulled his fingers out with a small pop and shifted himself so he was straddling Clint’s thighs and quickly opened Clint’s pants. As Bucky yanked them down, Clint’s breath hitched as he was exposed to the air, tilting his head back before reminding himself that he didn’t want to miss any part of the show before him and looking back to Bucky.

Bucky grinned toothily and shifted himself enough to pull Clint’s jeans down below his knee, trapping his legs together. Bucky seemed to be in too much of a rush to make sure he’d completed the task, apparently happy with his current level of access. Settling himself over Clint’s knees, Bucky put one hand back around Clint and the other in his mouth again before going back to teasing his entrance.

The string of curses Clint let out probably didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Bucky never stopped what he was doing. He could keep Clint walking this fine line of working him up and needing more to push him closer to the edge, and Clint would be somewhere between happily accepting and gritting his teeth to bear it.

As Bucky finally pushed his spit slicked finger into Clint, it also felt as though he were pushing all the air from Clint’s lungs in the same movement. "Guh…" Clint grunted. Any hope of eloquence was lost. Vaguely, Clint recalled wanting to do something to reciprocate, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what it was.

Bucky leaned down to lick a long line up Clint’s torso. Clint immediately reached up to grab a hold of the headboard above him. He needed something, _anything_ , to ground himself. Now there was a cooling trail that ran from his navel to the hollow of his throat that just made the rest of his body feel even warmer in contrast. Bucky closed his eyes as he sat back, almost as though he were savoring the flavor. “You are shockingly sweet,” he said and reopened his eyes. They held a mischievous glint, “for a human.”

Clint could barely huff out a laugh in response, it was really more of a breathy exhale than anything. “Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow coyly, “Ah— I always knew I’d m-melt if I went out in the rain.”

Bucky smirked and hummed back an affirmation. Now he was working two fingers in and working Clint’s erection in smooth, steady strokes. Each flick of his wrist had Clint white knuckling his hold on the headboard.

Picking up his pace, Bucky leaned down to lick and nip at Clint’s chest. “If you’re still able to say anything other than my name, I’m not doing my job right,” Bucky whispered into his skin. Clint had barely begun to chuckle when Bucky hit that spot inside, making him gasp and writhe instead.

“B- Bucky!” Clint gasped out, looking down to glare at him weakly.

Rising up, Bucky smirked triumphantly. “That's better,” he crooned, angling his fingers to hit the same spot again. Arching his back, Clint pressed his face into his arm in a futile attempt to stifle his own voice. As Bucky continued messaging his prostate over and over again, Clint bit down on his bicep and let out a small whine.

Clint peered out from behind his arm as Bucky sat back to enjoy the view that was laid out before him. He could picture it. All sweat shiny muscles, flexed and jumping with every drawn out stroke and tense of the fingers.

As Bucky leaned down, Clint held his breath. It felt as though time were slowing. Suddenly Bucky’s skin felt coarse, dragging so slow against him that Clint grit his teeth. Still, Bucky descended, licking his lips before blowing a gentle breath against the heated flesh in front of him. More goosebumps rose and fell as the cool air flowed over him. After an eternity, Bucky’s tongue lapped the smallest lick known to man at the slit of Clint’s cock.

There was no hope for him now. Now Clint was simultaneously in Heaven and Hell. He moaned, and hissed, and screamed as Bucky’s perfect lips surrounded him. If Clint could manage to pry his fingers away from his death grip on the headboard, he’d probably end up pulling Bucky’s hair out in his frantic attempts to never let this torturous bliss end.

Barely aware of anything but the wet heat that had taken him in, Clint couldn’t do anything to halt the twin actions of Bucky’s hands. Not that he wanted too, but the feeling was almost too much as a third finger was pushed into him, the fingers crooking and rubbing that one magical spot inside him and his nipple being pinched and rolled and pulled.

Huffing out what little air he could take in, Clint looked down the length of his own body to meet Bucky’s eyes as best he could. Arching an eyebrow, Bucky apparently took it as a challenge and pulled Clint’s entire length into his mouth, until his nose was pressed against Clint’s thick curls.

Brain completely short circuiting, Clint tried to kick out, only to be stopped by his jeans that Bucky had never completely removed. That’s when Bucky fucking _hummed_ and pressed into Clint, hard.

"Oh God. I'm gonna...!" Clint moaned. 

It wasn’t a slow build from the pit of his stomach when he came. It was a sudden heat that started from his toes and creeped upward along his legs and back until it reached his ears. Like a glass filling to it’s spilling point, Clint tipped over into bliss.

As he emptied himself into Bucky's throat, Clint heard the bed frame groan and crack loudly. It felt as though he were ascending to a higher plain and dying.

Panting as if he’d run a marathon, Clint made the mistake of glancing down at his partner just in time to see him licking a stray drop from the corner of his mouth.

“I swear to _GOD!_ You trying to suck the—”

The alarm clock vibrating the bed sent Clint’s heartbeat into overdrive as he bolted upright. Scanning the room with wide eyes, it took a moment for his brain to register that nothing was actually wrong. This was supposed to happen. Flopping himself back down on the bed, he glared angrily at the unfeeling red numbers staring back at him. _6:16 am. Too early to exist._ As the next wave of vibrations started, he grumpily rolled over and slammed an angry fist on the alarm clock.

Laying on his back, he stared at the ceiling for a moment. He’d been having some kind of dream, not one of his usual nightmares though. Something…. Nice. Something hot. Why was it that he could never remember the good dreams he was having? Only the ones that got his heart thumping in terror and his blood turning to ice in his veins.

With a sigh, he threw his arm over his eyes to block out what little light there was this early in the morning. 

“I’m gonna need so much coffee,” he mumbled.

As he was weighing the merits of skipping his morning workout in favor of falling back asleep, his bed started vibrating again. Blindly, he threw his arm from his face in an attempt to hit the twice cursed device. Smacking it a number of times didn’t stop this attack against his person though. It took him a moment to recognize that it wasn’t the clock, but his _phone_ that was being so spiteful.

With a heavy sigh, Clint half turned to grab it, swiping the red ‘decline’ button without checking the ID. If it was an emergency, they’d call back. There were very few people that were allowed to speak to him this early in the morning, and all of them knew that it shouldn’t be attempted without being certain that Clint was needed, or risk his vengeance in the form of dead fish in the vents above their office.

Just as Clint had settled back onto the bed, his phone started it’s bullshit once again. Grumbling to himself, he leaned up on his elbow and yanked the bedside drawer open. His steady stream of grumbles never ceased as he shoved his hearing aids into his ears and swiped the ‘accept’ button as angrily as he could manage, he placed the phone to his ear. “This had better be a life or death matter,” he said evenly.

He only listened for a moment before scurrying to throw the sheets off of himself and plant his feet against the floor. He could already feel the tears falling and the deep thump of his heartbeat in his temples. Fighting against his throat closing up against his will, he coughed lightly before attempting to respond. When he did it was barely a whisper.

“Nat?”

**Author's Note:**

> So you can see that the second prompt was summoning and somewhat seducing a faerie. Thanks for that Sophie. 😂 Next time I'll ask for a fic prompt when I'm looking for an art prompt. 
> 
> Yo! I'm on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/harishe-art) Come take a look!
> 
> I'm also on discord! Harishe#6556  
> If you're interested in joining the Marvel server that hosted the event, join us!


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